Make a Move ('Cause I'm Ready)
by HermioneCrookshanks919
Summary: In which Austin and Ally come up with more excuses to kiss after several failed attempts under the mistletoe … and maybe, possibly, finally get their act together. Spoilers for "Mix Ups & Mistletoe." Oneshot.


**Title shamelessly stolen from Gavin DeGraw's "Make a Move." I really should be finishing up the last chapter of my other fic (I AM SO SORRY; I swear I haven't been ignoring it), but Sunday's episode reduced me to a rather pitiful state due to my desire to see holiday make outs (or just holiday pecks – even blocked ones; I'm willing to lower my expectations). So here: have a fic of questionable quality with some kissing and a hint of relationship plot thrown in at the end.**

**For the record, I'm operating under the assumption that there were a couple of almost mistletoe kisses that got "cut," because really, those two were way too eager for it to only happen twice (I'm in camp "the almost kiss in the song was planned"). **

**Anyway, Happy Chanukkah and a very early Merry Christmas! And to those who celebrate neither: happy holidays/winter!**

* * *

Early on the day after Christmas, Trish barges into Sonic Boom and demands, "So are you going to tell me about that almost kiss under the mistletoe or what?"

Ally is still exhausted from yesterday and is all but on autopilot, and before she can stop herself she replies, "Which one?"

Trish's jaw drops. "_Oh my god_." The customers in the shop turn to stare at the two girls, but at a pointed glare from Trish they scatter. "You're telling me you almost kissed under the mistletoe _multiple _times?"

"Uh, I, what?" Ally asks, brain racing as she realizes her mistake. "No, that's … _absurd_. Who actively seeks out mistletoe?" she blurts out, and not for the first time, Ally is grateful that she never set her heart on a job in crisis management.

Trish goes bug-eyed. "_You planned the kisses_?"

"Kind of?" Ally asks with a small squeak. "I mean, we kept finding ourselves under the mistletoe … and then pointing it out. Which I guess counts as planning since we could've just walked away or not said something and … yeah." She's pretty certain her face is bright red now. "How'd you find out about— which one _did _you find out about?"

"The one after the performance. And I was _there_, hello," Trish responds with a wave of her hand.

Ally grimaces. "Oh. Right."

"Too caught up in a love haze to remember?" Trish teases.

Ally wrinkles her nose at her friend's choice of words. "_No_. I just had a lot going on, between Christmas and the party and—"

"Uh huh."

"I did!"

"Sure."

"_Trish_."

"Oh, you two were _totally _in your own little world. Until Dez crashed into it."

"Don't remind me," Ally mutters. She bends down to put away the last of the order of cymbals that had come in a few days ago. When she stands back up, Trish's questioning gaze greets her. "What?"

"You _really_ wanted to kiss him, huh?"

Ally knows _exactly_ where this conversation is headed, and she quickly attempts to steer it in a different direction. "It's mistletoe! There are _rules_."

"You _just _said you both went out of your way to enact those rules." Ally freezes. Yeah, a career in crisis management is _definitely _out of the question. Possibly her chosen career, too, given her inability to cover up facts she'd rather keep to herself.

"I'm sorry it didn't work out," Trish adds after a few moments of silence. She hops onto the counter, swinging her legs over so she can face Ally.

"We had some pretty terrible timing," Ally sighs. "Every time there was some sort of interruption."

"Sounds frustrating."

"It was. But not in the way you're thinking," Ally adds after one look at Trish's impish smile. Trish quirks an eyebrow. "Okay, a little bit in the way you're thinking."

"So why don't you just grab some mistletoe and go kiss him now?"

"Because Christmas is _over_," Ally says, slightly affronted. "The rules no longer apply! I can't abuse mistletoe like that."

"… It's a _plant_."

"A very symbolic plant that shouldn't be misused for my personal agenda."

Trish lets out a whistle. "Has anyone ever told you that you're completely irrational when it comes to your holiday traditions?"

"It's Christmas!" Ally says with a small whine. "I don't want to ruin it."

"Yeah, because using the holiday to make you happy would completely go against 'Christmas Spirit,'" Trish says with a roll of her eyes. "Too bad there isn't some other random December holiday you don't care about." Ally's pretty sure her best friend is joking, but her words spark an idea. Or the tiniest start of an idea. All Ally _really _knows is that she has approximately half an hour to do something. She reaches down and grabs her purse from under the counter.

"Um, what are you doing?" Trish asks at her sudden movement.

"I just remembered that my dad wanted me to run an errand," Ally lies. "Can you watch the store for a bit?"

"You want me to _work _on my _break_?" Trish demands. "I just finished a three-hour stint at the Beach Club because of my dumb promotion!"

"Thanks!" Ally exclaims, not hearing a word Trish said. Without a second glance back she rushes out of the store, leaving a rather annoyed best friend in her wake.

#####

Ally reaches Austin's house in record time, which thankfully is still long enough to come up with a full-fledged plan. Granted, her plan is a bit of a long shot, and very much on the ridiculous side, but Austin's about to leave to visit his grandparents, and she's not willing to wait nearly a week to right their mistletoe mishaps. She rings his doorbell, all but certain that if it was medically possible, her heart would slam out of her chest. She isn't sure why she's so nervous – it's not like they haven't done this a couple of times before (and had several other attempts to boot). But apparently her nervous system is paying no attention to logic, because her hands are clammy and she is _this _close to fainting from a lack of proper breathing.

From inside the house she hears a voice call, "Austin, can you get that?" and a moment later the door opens to reveal Austin's slightly annoyed face, which immediately brightens when he sees her. "I didn't know you were coming over!" he exclaims, joining her outside and closing the door behind him so it's only just ajar (for which Ally is very grateful).

"I wanted to catch you before you left." _So far, so good._ "I realized I hadn't given you your present."

Austin stares at her in confusion. "Um, yes you did. We exchanged gifts yesterday, remember?" He points to the bracelet on her wrist as evidence.

Ally turns the slightest shade of red and wraps her fingers around the piece of jewelry. "Yeah, but yesterday's was your Christmas gift. This is your Boxing Day gift."

Austin blinks. "My _what_?"

"Boxing Day. You know, that holiday after Christmas? It's celebrated in the UK and Canada and lots of other places."

"Do any of these other places include _our _country?"

"No," Ally admits. "But who doesn't love more gifts, right? Technically the gift-giving thing doesn't happen anymore, and back when it _did_ you only gave gifts to people like your servants, which obviously you are _not_." She lets out a very forced laugh, and Austin looks even more lost than before. Ally clears her throat. "I, uh, just thought it could be a fun new tradition. Taken from another country. And another time. That we completely change almost all of the customs for." She finishes with what she hopes is a winning smile.

"Okay…" Austin says uncertainly, although she can tell he is warming up to the idea. "I don't have any 'made-up holiday the day after Christmas' present for you, though."

"It's not a made-up holiday," she says, rolling her eyes despite her hammering heart and sweaty palms. "I told you, it's— never mind. Anyway, the gift … it's kind of for both of us."

Austin eyes her warily. "It isn't a metronome, is it?"

"A metro—oh!" She flashes back to that ridiculous argument they had had after 38 hours of no sleep. "No, you were right: we don't need 'some stupid ticking thing' to keep us in sync."

At her admission, a pleased expression graces Austin's features, only for suspicion to return a moment later. "So if it's not a metronome, what is it?"

"Just, um, close your eyes." She's growing more and more agitated the longer this conversation goes on; if she doesn't make her move now, she's pretty certain she's going to grab a rock from the side of his house and spend the next few minutes explaining how it represents their everlasting friendship. This is a scenario she would rather avoid.

Austin shoots her another distrusting look, but he does as she says and shuts his eyes.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, Ally takes one step towards him, then another, until they are only a few inches apart. She stands on her toes … and realizes that even with the added height she barely reaches his chin. "Can you, um, bend down a little?"

"Bend down?" Austin repeats as he follows her instructions. "Did you get me a necklace or something?"

"Or something." Ally's voice sounds weird, even to her own ears, and Austin must notice too because his eyes fly open. "Ally, what—"

Knowing she cannot afford to waste another second, she cuts him off with a kiss. It isn't anything particularly remarkable – it doesn't last more than a few seconds – but it's unexpected, and after several failed attempts under the mistletoe, it's more than Ally ever imagined would happen between them in the near future. And probably more than what Austin ever expected, if his shocked expression is anything to go by. She falls back down onto her heels, heart somehow racing even faster, and Austin's gaze follows her.

"Austin!" Ally hears Mr. Moon call. "We need to get going if we're going to beat traffic!"

Austin ignores his father's warning and instead elects to just gape in Ally's direction. She can't help but feel the slightest sense of satisfaction that she has managed to render him speechless so easily.

"W-what?" he finally sputters.

"I should go," she tells the still shocked teen-aged boy, because his father's calls are growing increasingly more impatient. "Happy Boxing Day, Austin," she adds, smiling. She turns around and leaves before Austin can start asking questions that they don't have time to discuss. And, more importantly, before his parents see their son and demand to know the cause for his comatose state.

#####

Ally spends the week working at Sonic Boom and furtively checking her phone for any texts from Austin. But after he sends the requisite "got here safely! :-)" mass text (to which she had expressed her appreciation and wished him a good rest of the trip), the only incoming messages are from Trish and Dez, and Ally's too nervous (or possibly stubborn) to text him first (she made the first move, after all – it's only fair that he send the first post-kiss _text_). She reasons with herself that he's too busy spending time with his grandparents and … spending time with his grandparents. But really, how much spare time is there when you're golfing? (_A lot_, a voice she wishes would shut up informs her. _A lot of spare time._)

After nearly five days of silence, the last thing Ally expects is for Austin to come sauntering into Sonic Boom as if she _hadn't _kissed him moments before he left for Tampa and he _hadn't _returned her gesture with complete and utter silence. But saunter into Sonic Boom he does, a wide smile on his face as he calls, "Hey, Ally!"

Ally glances up from her place behind the cash register. "H-hi," she returns, placing her phone down and walking around the counter. "How was your trip?"

"Pretty chill. Lots of golfing." The voice inside her head tuts. _No time to text you, huh?_ "We went to the beach once, although it was too cold to go swimming or anything. It's not like I can't go to the beach here, though, so I wasn't too bummed." He finishes with a small shrug.

"Meet anyone while you were there?" she asks in what she hopes is a very blasé tone. A winter break hook up could definitely explain why he hadn't bothered to text her. Not that she's rooting for such a reason. Thankfully, Austin looks mildly offended at her insinuation, and she breathes a bit easier. But just a tiny bit.

"Not really; I was a little busy."

"Playing golf?"

"Golf can be pretty distracting," he says pointedly, and there is no question in her mind that golf wasn't the source of his distraction. She swallows, ready to discuss her Boxing Day gift, but Austin goes on: "So how were things here?"

Austin's return to normal conversation momentarily throws her. "I, uh, good. Quiet. Dad left for the Intercontinental Kazoo Conference a couple of days ago, so I've pretty much been here the entire time. Working. Not checking my phone. Because that would be against store policy and why would I need to check my phone?" She lets out a small laugh and Austin raises his eyebrows before letting his gaze wonder to the phone next to the guitar picks. "I was using the calculator while I was going through some of our accounts," she rushes, and before he points out that she never uses a calculator for basic math and that there are no papers in sight, she asks, "When did you get back?"

"About an hour ago. I actually stopped by your house, but you weren't there, so I figured…"

"Yeah, I'm here until six," Ally explains. "I convinced Dad that closing anytime later would just be a waste of money. Well, a further waste of money," Ally adds as she takes in the almost empty store. Unsurprisingly, a small music shop isn't people's first or even seventh stop on New Year's Eve. "This was the best I could manage."

"So … you'll make it to the party tonight?"

"Well, we're hosting the party here, and I'm the only one with the keys, so I think my chances of making it are pretty high."

"Right," Austin says, looking sheepish for the briefest of moment. Ally waits for him to continue, but instead he just stands there expectantly.

"Did you just come here just to ask about the party or…?"

At her question, Austin perks up. "Actually, I wanted your help with something."

"Oh?" she asks, trying once again not to sound too interested.

"Yeah. One of the reasons I was so busy this week is because I was trying to figure a few things out—"

"_Things_?" Ally repeats, convinced Austin is being frustratingly vague on purpose. "What sort of _things_?"

"Things like … is New Year's Eve Day a holiday?" he muses as he walks towards her, closing the not-so- significant distance that had separated them for the past few minutes.

Ally shoots him a questioning look. "_That's_ what you worried about your entire trip?"

"Think about it: everyone always talks about New Year's Day and New Year's Eve, but what about New Year's Eve _Day_? Shouldn't the last_ day_ of the year matter, not just the evening?"

Ally cocks her head to the side, seriously considering his question, weird as it is. "I don't know. I mean, no one gets off for the day unless it's a gift of the employer or something. Then again, no one technically gets off Christmas Eve Day either, and lots of people view _that _as a holiday."

"So New Year's Eve Day could be a _sort-of_ holiday?" Austin prompts.

Ally twists her nose, not really sure of the point of this discussion – maybe to convince her father to close the store all day next year so they can plan that huge New Year's Eve party Austin and Trish had wanted for tonight? She hardly sees that working out in their favor. "I guess 'sort-of holiday' works," she concedes.

"Good enough for me," he says happily. He reaches over, cups her face in his hands, and kisses her. And not a brief brushing of the lips like she'd done almost a week earlier. No, this is a body-pressed-up-against-hers, tongue-tracing-her-lips sort of kiss. Ally's frozen brain begins to thaw, but just as she parts her lips he breaks away. His hands fall to her shoulders as he tells her with the most self-satisfied expression she has ever seen, "Happy New Year's Eve Day, Ally." And then he leaves. Just turns around and jauntily makes his way out of the shop, which she supposes is only fair given it is exactly what she had done to him – if you replaced a quick peck on the lips with a heated kiss, of course.

It is at this very moment that Trish decides to stop in for one of her many visits. She brushes past Austin, a confused expression appearing on her face as she takes in his overly delighted manner. Ally watches, still in a slightly dazed state, as Trish turns back around and her eyes fall on her best friend.

"Can someone tell me what exactly is going on?"

"I … he just … he _kissed_ me," Ally says, voice hoarse. She leans against the counter for support. She had spent almost the entire week waiting for a freaking _text message_, and instead…. She should have known better – this _is_ the guy who attempted to _parachute_ _in a piano_ and then serenaded her in front of her friends and family. Of course he would see her … whatever it was her Boxing Day thing had been and raise her an almost make out.

"_What_?" Trish demands, rushing over to sit beside her. "Details – I want to know _everything_. He just came in here, kissed you, and left?"

"No, I mean, we talked for a bit. About nothing. And then he wanted to know if New Year's Eve Day could count as a holiday … and when I said it could … he kissed me."

"New Year's Eve Day?" Trish repeats. "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard." Ally says a silent thanks that she never let Trish in on her idea to co-opt Boxing Day (she had planned on saying something after she heard back from Austin, but no, that secret is dying with her now). "He must be really desperate if he couldn't wait until midnight to have a valid excuse to make out with you." Ally ducks her head, ready to end this conversation, but Trish fails to read the signs. "So what are you going to do about it?"

"Huh?"

"About the kiss! Clearly you two are as crazy for each other as ever. And doing completely bizarre things as a result," Trish adds under her breath. "New Year's Eve Day!" she repeats with a shake of her head.

Ally blushes. "I don't know. I mean, we agreed to just be friends and focus on our careers and—"

Trish rolls her eyes. "Okay, scratch what I said earlier: _that _is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. You two already act like you're together, just minus all the PDA. How exactly will your lives drastically change if you start dating again?"

Ally racks her brain for one of the many excuses she and Austin have created over the past year, but all she can come up with this time is a rather pitiful "reporters will keep bothering us for interviews about our relationship?"

Unsurprisingly, this fails to sway Trish. "Last I checked that was already a problem. You might as well get hot make out sessions while you're at it."

"Trish!" Ally urgently looks around for any listening ears in the still barely populated store.

"Oh, like you don't spend every other minute of the day thinking about it," Trish retorts, clearly growing impatient. "Look, you two just spent all of Christmas trying to kiss each other—"

"And Christmas Eve," Ally corrects her out of habit. She winces as she realizes her mistake.

"You two spent all of Christmas a_nd_ _Christmas Eve_," Trish amends, shooting Ally a murderous glare, no doubt for failing to tell her the whole story,_ "_trying to kiss each other. And then Austin made up some bullshit reason to finally get that kiss." _After _my_ bullshit reason_, Ally adds to herself. "Clearly you're both just going to spend the next however many months until you finally get together finding more reasons to get your hands on each other, so why not cut to the chase? And don't feed me that 'our careers' line again – if Taylor Swift has taught us anything, it's that relationships are the perfect fodder for Billboard hits."

Ally furrows her brow. "Um, Trish? At least half of Taylor Swift's hits are about break ups. If not more than half."

"So you'll have fewer hits than Taylor Swift," Trish says with a shrug. "You'll be too busy with Austin to care." Ally shoots Trish a frustrated glare of her own at her friend's not-too-subtle suggestion. "Look at it this way," Trish reasons, interpreting Ally's annoyance for reluctance. "When are you happiest? And I promise not to be completely offended if you don't say it's when you're with me."

"Seriously?" Ally asks, because that does not sound like her best friend _at all_.

"I said I promise!"

Ally narrows her eyes, still unsure, but finally she admits, "When I'm with Austin." As if in cue, Trish gasps in outrage. "You said you wouldn't be offended!" Ally cries.

"I said _completely _offended," Trish reminds her. "I can still be slightly offended. And I'll be a little less if you tell me I'm a very, very close second."

"Of _course_ you're a very, very close second," Ally assures her. "You're my best friend."

"As long as that's clear. Although it also wouldn't hurt if you released 'Redial' as your first single."

Ally laughs. "You can take that up with Ronnie." Trish grins, and Ally has no doubt that by this time tomorrow her label will call her in to discuss marketing for her album.

"So ... what _are _you going to do?" Trish prompts for the second time. Ally lets out a small sigh. "Truthfully? I don't know. If I'm being completely honest, I … think you're right."

"Of _course _I'm right."

"But," Ally objects, "it's not like I can just walk up to him and go, 'Hey, Austin! Remember everything we said before about why we shouldn'tdate? Let's just pretend that never happened.'"

"Um, yes you can," Trish says, looking amused at Ally's claim. "If you told Austin that you wanted to give a relationship another go, he'd jump on board like that." She snaps her fingers for emphasis. "But I won't blame you if you want to do something a little bigger than 'hey, let's go out.' Clearly that was one hell of a kiss to get you this worked up."

Ally worries her bottom lip. "You really think he'd say yes?"

Trish snorts. "If he doesn't, I'll quit my job."

"Yeah, that's not exactly the sort of assurance I was hoping for."

"_Fine_, if he doesn't I'll donate my closet to some charity organization or whatever. Is that better?"

Ally's eyes go wide at Trish's declaration. "You'd seriously risk all of your cheetah print?"

"It's not a risk if it's a sure thing," Trish says with an unconcerned shrug.

Ally glances down at her watch: in a little over an hour she can close the store, but she's supposed to be here two hours later to let everyone in so they can set up for the party. That's not nearly enough time to get ready _and _figure out a way to one-up Austin. If she even _wants _to one-up Austin, that is. Ally bites the inside of her cheek, thinking over Trish's words. She knows Austin returns her feelings, and if Trish is _that _certain that he'd agree to try again…

Mind decided, Ally opens the cash register and starts fishing through it. "Take my spare set of keys," Ally tells Trish once she finds the said item. "I think I'm going to be late tonight, so you'll have to get everything ready."

Trish's eyes glint as she grabs the proffered keys from Ally's hand. "_No alcohol_," Ally warns for what must be the fifteenth time this week.

"I _know_," Trish says, although Ally doesn't miss the small pout that flashes across her face. "So what's with the sudden change in plans?"

Ally echoes Austin's earlier words: "I need to figure a few things out."

#####

Ten minutes before midnight, Ally rushes into Sonic Boom, a sheet of paper clutched in her hand. After double checking that there are no kegs or bottles of vodka lying around (there aren't), she searches for Austin. It takes a few minutes to find him among the hordes of high school students milling about the store (_So much for a small get together_, she thinks), but eventually she finds him leaning against the piano. He is surrounded by Dez and a few acquaintances from school, but he's too busy glancing down at his phone to interact with any of them.

"Austin!" Ally calls, waving a hand high above her head. Austin looks up, and the moment their eyes lock he immediately pushes his way toward her, meeting her near the cash register (which she had made sure to empty prior to locking up).

"Where have you been?" he demands. "The party started hours ago! I must've sent you fifty texts. And then I asked Trish, but all she said was that you were gonna be late, but—"

Somewhere across the store, someone calls, "Five minutes 'til midnight!"

"Sorry," Ally says, still a bit out of breath after racing from the mall parking lot to the store. "I was busy – had my phone on silent." The last part isn't _entirely _true – a more accurate statement would've been, "I was actively avoiding your texts because I was trying to figure out a grand(ish) gesture," but that part will come later. She hopes.

"Busy? With _what_?"

"With this." She shows him the paper she brought with her. "My New Year's resolutions."

Austin doesn't look convinced. "It took you _five hours_ to work on your resolutions?"

"_And _to get ready for this party," Ally adds, gesturing at her hair and dress. Austin's eyes briefly flicker down her body before returning to meet her gaze, and she is relieved to see that she's not the only one blushing.

"You, uh, look nice," he tells her, a little gruffly. He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his blazer.

Ally feels her cheeks grow even warmer. "Thanks. You, too."

Silence follows for a few moments, and then Austin repeats, almost petulantly, "Five hours?"

"Resolutions are important!" Ally insists, suddenly feeling defensive. "Last year I wrote that I would get over my stage fright, and, well … I did."

Austin's face softens. "Okay, you've got me there. So what's on your list this year?"

_There goes that racing heart again_. Ally swallows, trying to avoid croaking out her confession, and then glances down at the sheet. "O-One: M-make a second album." She clears her throat. "Two: Go on tour. My _own _tour," she amends, and her voice begins to grow stronger. "Three: Convince my father to hire another employee so I can have more time to work on my music. Four: Earn a five on all of my AP exams." As she comes to the final resolution, she lowers the paper, hands shaking, and forces herself to make eye contact with the boy in front of her. "Five: Ask out the guy I like before we're reduced to using Groundhog Day as an excuse to kiss each other."

Ally wishes she had had another couple of hours to make that last resolution not sound _so_ _horrendously awkward_. But it seems to have gotten the point across: if possible, Austin looks even more shocked than that day outside his house. "You wrote a resolution about me?" he finally asks, staring at her in awe, as if _that _– not the contents of the resolution itself – is the great reveal.

"Resolutions are important," she repeats, voice soft (or as soft as a voice can be and still be heard at a New Year's Eve party). As Austin continues to stare, the television screen at the back of the store switches to a shot of the ball in Times Square. Everyone around them starts counting down.

"Ten!"

"What about—?" ("It'd be silly to rush into a relationship when we're so busy with our careers!" she had said only a few months earlier.)

"I don't care," Ally answers, voice sure.

"Nine!"

"And—?" ("Yeah, and we don't need to deal with that extra pressure from fans and reporters.")

"Don't care."

"Eight!"

"But what about—?" ("I mean, what if we got into another fight and completely ruined our partnership?")

"Austin." Ally grabs his hand and taking a step forward. ("Seven!") "All of that stuff … it's just excuses." ("Six!") "It doesn't matter. Unless _you_ care," she adds quickly, because she has had several hours to think this over – maybe he needs more than five seconds to consider the impact this will have on his career and, well, _them_. ("Five!") He takes a beat too long to answer ("Four!"), and Ally starts to remove her hand, only for Austin to tighten his hold ("Three!").

"I only cared because I thought you did." He moves in closer.

"Two!"

Ally lets out a small, disbelieving laugh. _Is this actually going to work?_ She smiles, and he smiles back.

"One!" the crowd screams.

Austin pulls her to him, and as everyone exclaims, "Happy New Year!" they kiss – this time not because of some made up or borrowed holiday. She wraps her arms around his neck; he responds in kind by running a hand up her spine before tangling his fingers into her curls. Ally shivers at the sensation, and she tightens her hold on him, her list of resolutions crumpling in her hand (the original copy safe in her book back at home).

"Happy New Year," Austin gasps as they break apart.

"Happy New Year," she answers.

Austin reaches up to push a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "So I guess that's one resolution you can cross off your list," he says with a small smirk.

"Who said that resolution was about you?" she retorts, mimicking his smug tone.

And then, just for the hell of it, and because she _can_, she pulls him in for another kiss.

* * *

**So disclaimer: I have a love-hate relationship with Taylor Swift, but that hate is not directed toward her writing songs about relationships. And I also am firmly in camp "Taylor Swift writes about topics other than relationships" – it just so happens, understandably, that her more popular songs are about love etc. Also, cultural appropriation is not cool. Boxing Day is European in origin, but Ally's "borrowing" of the holiday should not be applied to non-white cultures (in other words: don't let this fic inspire cultural appropriation, please and thank you). Now that I have that off my chest, I hope you enjoyed! I always feel a lot more comfortable writing angsty fics, but fingers crossed this fic didn't feel too off. Thoughts are greatly appreciated. =)**


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